Child of Aphrodite
by masochisticnugget
Summary: This is a Percy Jackson fanfiction I'm currently working on- Give me a read, and if you like it, favorite or follow the story! Obviously, I don't own the Percy Jackson Series, I'm simply using it for creative purposes. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

I sat, lonely—Staring idly at the object of my affection. My heart thudded in my chest. I swallowed the slew of self-grieving thoughts, and continued to watch him from afar. One of my half-sisters walked up to me, her face a mixture of both annoyance, and pity.

"You're pathetic."

I drew in a breath. "I know."

My wistful eyes followed the outline of the Athena boy's body, right until he sunk over the hill, into the world of mortals, past the pine tree up on the hill, and past the border which guarded our old haven.

I refused to let the tears fall, fearing if I spoke another word, it would all spill. All I could muster was, "I don't understand, Drew.."

My sister sat beside me, throwing her arm around me in a rough, but yet affectionate sort of manner. She paused. "It happens to the best of us, if not all.. Mother always did like to make waves amongst her children. Especially…" She hesitated, her voice shifting into a tone that could only be determined as jealousy— " One of her favorite children."

I buried my face in my hands. "Oh Drew, I hate it! A mortal! How pathetic! What kind of child of Aphrodite am I if I can't even make the man I love stay with me!"

Thankfully, Michael was out of ear shot. He was long gone, past the hill. Probably going to see his little human girlfriend, too.

Perhaps I should elaborate. Though most of us at Camp Half-Blood are human-looking, a good majority are decedents from one of the Olympian Gods and Goddesses—Y'know, the ones you read about in history class. Or if you're like Drew, you don't. You just see them on the test.

But that's beside the point.

Drew looked to me with eyes sadder than I'd ever seen outside my mirror. Though she could overdo it with the drama, and could very well be cruel and unjust, I did honestly believe that deep down, she was a caring person.

For a while, we sat in silence. For the past couple years, being a demi-god was the most hectic it had ever been. First, it started with the titans, (I was discovered as a child of Aphrodite in the middle of this "war"), then once that was over, as if we were playing some crude 90's wack-a-mole game, another threat popped up, except this one, a bit bigger.

Quite literally, as they were giants, being resurrected from Tartarus, or hell, or whatever you wish to believe in. The gods were at war with their roman and greek personas, developing a crude sort of split-personality disorder—To put it simply, it was complete and utter chaos. And in those times, I had my boyfriend, Michael.

Michael was about 5'8, a little taller than me. Though he was short, he made up for it with his brawn, and brain, which most kids of Athena are known for. He was blonde, with deep, chocolate brown eyes, so much different from all his other siblings. He smiled in a catty, bright sort of way, his whole face moved with the pull of his lips into a grin. It was contagious, and like moths drawn to fire, I fell into the flames for him.

Excuse the pun, but I did really end up getting burned in the end.

During our war against Mother Earth, or Gaia, Michael was injured, and his step mom wanted him home, as any mother would with her son hurt. She had him admitted into a secure facility at West Point, where his father had gone to college, and where in turn, Michael had been sent to heal. He didn't like it, but it beat battling against the giants pushing further, and further into Camp territory.

While on the base, he met his current girlfriend. I refuse to refer to her by name, but I will describe her. She's short-ish, with long, wiry brown hair, thinning at the ends into a blondish sort of way. Her eyes are an icy, Antarctic blue, and her face is littered with freckles.

This girl, I despise.

After being away, and the strain of battle and the stress of our demi-god lives, I guess he just needed a break. And he concluded that "break" would be away from me. After the Gaia issue had finally been put to sleep once more, he broke up with me.

Needless to say, I was a mess after that. On the bright side, my cabin is full of children of the love goddess, Aphrodite, who know exactly how to cure an aching heart—If it wasn't for my siblings, I'm not entirely sure how I would've survived that.

Up to this point, he's been forced to interact with me because of the camp, and he's had to talk to me. Now that he left, I felt this hole inside me. Deep, inside my heart. I didn't know what to do with myself. If he was gone, what was I to make of myself?

My half-sister, Drew seemed to sense this inside me, and smiled. "Let's go flirt with some Ares' kids, yeah? Follow in mom's footsteps?" She smirked, her almond shaped, brown eyes filled with mirth.

I mustered a small, measly smile. Gathering the pieces of my heart that had sunk to the bottom of my shoes like ripped paper, I stood with her, and looked off into the Camp we called home.

And with a small glance back at the border from which he had left, we walked on.


	2. The Martyr

CHAPTER 1

The day was December 17th. The year-round campers and I all remember it as the day Michael decided to nearly get himself killed in a freak-summoning accident that had nearly wiped out half the camp. Rhea (a child of Hecate who had grown to see her mid-twenties), one of the minion-summoning instructors soon came to the conclusion to pick her pupils wisely, rather than let any demi-god try his or her hand at making deals with certain monsters.

It was also the day he had asked me out on our first date.

Quite a contrast, no?

I woke up early, and sat upright in my bunk, inside my cabin filled with all my other half siblings. The few of us that were still here, were all still fast asleep, as they claimed to need "beauty rest", although I really doubt that has anything to do with one's over all appearance.

I slid out of my bunk, and checked a small, digital clock on the nightstand next to Drew's and my bunk.

 _5:30_ _a.m._

During the summer, it would be considered pretty taboo to wake up at that ungodly hour, but fortunately during off-season camping, and especially the winter months when demi-god nightmares seemed to be at their worst—You were allowed to be up, just as long as you weren't too loud or anything crazy like summoning minions (Cough cough, Michael).

As I slipped myself into a pair of joggers, a silky, soft t-shirt and white slip-on tennis shoes, I felt my heart grow heavy. It almost seemed to weigh me down.

I looked into the mirror, and at my reflection. I didn't feel like brushing my hair—Besides, it would only get poofy, frizzy, and nasty. I reached for my distinct make up bag (It was a pastel pink bag, adorned with white stars and the occasional eyeliner smudge here and there) and pulled out my mascara and eyelash curler, and went about a simple morning routine I had made a ritual since I was about 13.

As I finished, I looked in the mirror, and attempted a small smile. It didn't look genuine, but it was a start.

Quietly, I walked out of my mother's cabin, and closed the door shut. I was greeted eagerly by the biting New York cold—Although Dionysus could moderate the temperature in our little haven, he still liked to keep the authenticity of the winter months. I assumed he liked it because it meant that he was soon allowed to revisit Olympus again, and see his wife—A tale I had been told since I had got here. Aphrodite kids love their godly gossip.

It almost seemed unreal to me, that the Winter Solstice Council was coming up in just a matter of days. It almost seemed as if it was just yesterday, we were getting off the battle field, covered in sweat, blood and grime—licking our wounds from our war against Gaia.

Now it was mid-December, and things seemed to be patching themselves up once again.

Well, almost.

I jogged past the strawberry fields, lightly frosted in the cool, winter weather. I normally didn't like to run, but in this weather I could afford to spare the extra energy to warm myself up.

I slowed myself down to a brisk walking pace, as I reached the sparring arena. Usually, Rhea was awake at this time too. Her story was one I lamented ever since it had reached my ears.

Her mother, Hecate, had only stuck around to bear her boyfriend at the time, Curtis, a beautiful baby girl named Rhea. Her father was an unstable drunkard, who couldn't take Hecate's absence in his life—So in return, he blamed Rhea for everything that had happened.

That was all I knew, but there were a lot of whispers about Rhea being kidnapped by a traveling circus or something. Even more whispers about her lover, who apparently, had never been seen before by demi-god eye. The Aphrodite kids ate it up like hot macaroni and cheese, as did I. She was a beautiful woman—It was hard to imagine she'd stay single for very long.

As I entered the arena, I saw her there. She was humming to herself, while sticking back together a battered practice dummy. Sometimes, for fun, one of the senior campers like Percy or Jason would come down and teach the rookies a move or two, causing the poor mannequin to end up in pieces. Rhea, had sort of developed an estranged relationship and loyalty to that beat-up sack, and she stitched together it's wounds, almost tenderly, as if she were working on something living.

I smiled warmly. "Hello, Rhea."

The sorceress turned around, her eyes wide, much like a doll's. She grinned brightly. "Hello, Penelope. How was your night?"

"Good, good.. How's Martyr holding up?" I teased, sitting down on a bench near the dummy, who we'd affectionately nicknamed "Martyr".

Her lips pulled back into one dazzling, white smile. Affectionate, and yet foxy, and very cunning. "Oh, he's holding up—Although I pity the poor thing. Annabeth tore him to little pieces last night with her daggers." She lamented, her voice dipping into a more serious tone.

I raised an eyebrow, not sure how to react to her change of tone. "Is... Uh, 'he' okay?"

Rhea's face lightened up once more. "Oh, for sure. Isn't that right, Martyr?" She turned to the puppet-ish looking thing. It just stood there, silent.

Propelling a laugh, if not a bit awkwardly, I managed to keep the conversation out of weirder waters. Sometimes, I really couldn't understand Rhea, although our stories are similar.

Like her, my mom had fallen for someone charming, but not the best father figure. Though the difference was she had taken the extra measure to make sure I found a safe home with my mom, Diana, an ex-model with extremely humble roots—Not like those beauty queens you see on TV.

We even looked a bit similar, too. If it wasn't for my knowledge of who my real dad was, I would maybe go as far as to assume we were from the same sire. We both had very dark, brown hair, and fair skin. We had small, button noses, with full, pink lips. The only difference is that she had a dancer's body, very short and skinny, and these interesting eyes, like kaleidoscopes—Never landing on a single color, always shifting and changing like our lives as demi-gods. My eyes were a simple, dark olive green.

I was tall, and while I was lean, Rhea was muscular and toned. I was just skinny.

She finished patching up Martyr, and turned to me. "Did you hear about clean-up duty?"

"Clean up duty?" I repeated, almost out of habit.

She sat down beside me, putting away her needles and thread into a small, painted box. "Yeah. Apparently there's some stray monsters here in there, kind of wandering idly throughout the areas in which we battled the giants. And while, they don't pose much of a threat, we don't want to risk anything."

I snorted. "Sounds like busy work."

Rhea smiled. "Perhaps, but Chiron and the others are as paranoid as ever. We wouldn't want history repeating itself," She paused, and held her hands up as if motioning to a grand display. "Stray monsters join forces to crush demi-god oppressors, resurrect monster lord from Tartarus for ultimate revenge!"

Rolling my eyes, exhaled, hard. "I get it, I get it. Who's got 'clean-up duty'?"

"That's to be decided at breakfast… Though I wouldn't hold your breath. They'll probably have some of the Seven take care of that."

The _Seven_ were what us regular ol' demi-gods used to refer to the ones chosen by the prophecy. And let me make clear, there is no jealousy in my tone while I write this. The last thing any demi-god could want, is to be tied up in some old poem dictating whether you fail or succeed, live or die, and so forth. It wasn't something to be proud of, most of the time.

I laughed a bit nervously. "Well, that's a relief for the rest of us."

Rhea cocked an eyebrow, if not a bit incredulously. "Is it really, though?"

Rhea was always one to play the devil's advocate, and always one to make me rethink something I may have felt strongly about. She had that sort of persuasion about her, where she could turn night into day, black into white, wrong into right. Or maybe it was the charm speak.

"I…" Faltering, I cleared my throat. "Well, I mean, sure, it would be great to get as much recognition and respect from Aphrodite as Piper has, or to be as popular as Jason or Percy, or to be regarded as a certified bad ass like Annabeth and things like that… But I'm not really sure if it's for me." I looked down at my white shoes, swinging my feet back and forth a bit nervously.

Rhea's voice took on a more nurturing dictation. "You won't know unless you see for yourself. After all, life is all about experie-"

She was abruptly cut off by the sound of an echoing, billowing horn. Breakfast time.

I stood up, and waited for her to finish, but she simply brushed herself off, and grinned again.

"Hungry?"


	3. The Quest

CHAPTER 2

I really began to wonder why Rhea ever decided to stick around at Camp Half-Blood, as we made our way down to the breakfast area.

As we walked together, people whispered, others jeered, some paid us no attention other than the usual longing looks a pretty girl normally gets while walking past a group of lonely individuals.

Most of the nasty looks came from the fact that Rhea was a very, very powerful demi-god. As a child of Hecate, her powers were more so considered to be a gag-gift rather than something actually useful in a battle. The goddess of magic wasn't nearly as respected as the main three, or any other of the 12 typical Olympian gods or goddesses.

But more often than not, people forget Hecate is the patron goddess of sorcerers, necromancers, and witchcraft. Rhea tapped into her true power with her sorcery, and necromancy—becoming a force to be reckoned with, even if you were a child of the big three.

She taught basic minion summoning at camp, a more modern style of fighting, especially since we've spent most of our lives as demi-gods trying to keep the monsters at bay. No one ever thought about summoning them to fight for our side. It was a foreign, alien idea.

And for that, she was often shunned. People said she was only powerful because she relied on sick, twisted monsters to "do her bidding".

Despite the whispers, Rhea managed to hold her head up high, as I had soon witnessed on our way to breakfast.

"Hey look!" I heard a voice call. It was loud, deep and mean. I looked over, and was greeted by one of the Ares kids. They all sort of lookalike—Black or brown hair, brooding features, thin lips pulled into sneers like rabid dogs. Barbaric.

Don't even get me started on their clothing.

Rhea didn't even turn her head. With the dignity of a queen, she turned her nose up to the air, kept on walking. But our pursuer didn't stop there.

"Hey, witch! Turn around!" He sneered, crossing his arms. He leaned against the side of the Ares Cabin, with its brash, peeled-red paint, barbed wire and boar's head. They seemed proud of the work they had done to the once simple log-cabin. They were all like that. Arrogant, and proud.

The sorceress stopped walking, but didn't face him. "What troubles you, Child of Ares?"

He snorted, cracking his knuckles against his arm "You even talk like one of 'em! Fuckin' witch." With that retort, the boy stood up, and circled around us. "This your witch-in-training? No wonder, Aphrodite kids can't fight for shit."

I clenched my fist, my knuckles turning white. I could feel my face turning red.

"She is learning." Rhea said simply. "More than you ever will—It would do you well to look to weapons other than your fists."

He cocked an unruly eyebrow. His eyes reminded me of his father's—Fiery, instigative and awful. "My fists are always 'ere. Same can't be said for your stupid little wand, witch."

Rhea frowned, her eyes still shifting, formulating. I saw her reach for something concealed in her jacket, but so did the bully.

Like the barbarian he was, he grasped her wrist and yanked it up. Much to his surprise, there was nothing in it. Almost instantly, she whipped her other hand around, and cut clean through his wrist with a sharp, concealed blade.

My breath was caught in my throat as I watched his limp, lifeless hand fall unto the frosted tips of the grass. He was almost as surprised as I was, staring bewildered at his newly-acquired stub.

"M-my hand!"

Rhea appeared unaffected by his cry. "Where are your fists now?"

As the last word left Rhea's tongue, he shot at her with his other hand to rip it out—But she was not finished with him yet. Like a panther, she ducked, and threw her dagger into the air, distracting him enough to switch their positions, and finally kick him onto the ground. The blade glittered in the air, and landed point-down, right in between his legs where he laid, bewildered.

The blade grew, and shifted into a long, ivory staff. The jewel framed at the top of the lavish staff reminded me so much of her eyes, simply indescribable. The Ares kid seemed just as surprised as I was.

Rhea picked up her staff, and waved it over the kid. The air rippled around us, and the illusion faded. His hand had never been cut off.

"Leave us be." She frowned, and ushered me away from the kid—He had a dazed expression on his face, as did the rest of his cabin—They had watched the whole scuffle unravel.

As we walked away, the crowd behind us got rowdy once more, and noisy, teasing and jeering—Although it wasn't directed at us anymore.

I broke the silence as we walked. "Rhea, that was…"

We stopped walking, and she turned to face me, her eyes serious, and dark.

"As women, Penelope, we cannot rely on strength alone to beat our opponents. We must have strategy, and allies. We must take in all that we see, and use it to our advantage, learn and grow. That strategy I used was learned by observing sirens, and contorting the mist into something that can even veil demi-god eyes to what is reality. I did not rely on strength." She explained. I listened, intrigued.

She grasped my shoulder, and looked into my eyes. "You don't have to rely on strength, Penelope. You can fight your opponents with something much greater." Rhea smiled, and gave me a wink as she walked on ahead, to meet Chiron, and Dionysus at the base of the dining hall.

As Rhea left, I felt myself grow weaker at those words. Michael had told me something similar.

He was always my safe-guard, my protector. Anything that dared to hurt me, he was there in a flash, from a spider in the bathroom, to a blood thirsty minotaur, or a malevolent spirit—Michael was always there. I felt so alone, and exposed without him. It was hard to deal with, at times.

I felt myself sink into another sad, wistful memory.

 _In a rather desperate motion, I scooted into his lap, and pointed a shaky finger to the corner of the room. Something stirred in the darkness. "Spider!"_

 _Michael looked at me with a rather tired expression—Though I knew it was really just a mask. He liked to be depended on, even for the most mundane tasks, like killing a spider that had managed to get into the sparring arena._

 _"Christ, Penny…" He rolled his dark brown eyes, giving me a sly, half smile. "It's just a bug. Just step on it."_

 _I blinked. "But then I'll get it on my shoe. And that's pretty gross." Batting my eyelashes, I gave him a chaste kiss on the nose. Michael chuckled, and stood up, causing me to slide onto the bench I had been previously sitting on._

 _"Let's see here…" He started, but didn't get to finish. The spider crawled out from it's shadowy hide away. Michael let out a noise that might've been a cross between a gasp and a squeak. "That's not a spider—"_

 _In a terrible, snake-like hiss, the creature lunged for him. Michael dodged it with ease, and with the thing in the light, I could finally see what he was dealing with._

 _The "spider" was a six inch, metallic-looking hellspawn, one could only assume it would be the work of a Hephaestus kid. It raked its metal fangs on the floor, and charged at an alarming rate, right at Michael._

 _Unsheathing his sword, Michael wasted no time. He sliced it to bits with a quick flick of his wrist, and scattered the remains with his foot in contempt. "Guess it won't be_ bugging _us anymore." He smirked at me._

I made my way to my table, where a nymph handed me a plate of my usual—Lots of fruit, yogurt and granola. My cup was filled with hot peppermint tea.

The only other camper in the Aphrodite cabin was Piper, although after this year, you wouldn't pin her to be one of us. She was pretty, without a doubt, but she was covered in so many different battle scars, from gashes, bruises, to old, and tired looking eyes—Not very fitting for a girl in her late teens. I pitied her more than anything else, even though we didn't talk very much.

Though a smaller, more selfish part of me envied her. She still had her boyfriend, Jason. She had so many close friends, not to mention her dad gave a damn about her. But I guess none of that matters when it's always at stake, which it seems to always be in her case.

As people stood up to dump parts of their breakfast into the fire lit near the Counselor's table, Piper and I made our way to the fire. I threw three plump strawberries into the flames, and one ripe, sweet-smelling peach. The area was filled with a lovely, warm smell. I smiled, feeling a little less alone. Silently in my head, I prayed.

 _Accept my offering, Aphrodite, and help me. Please._ I left it at that, and made it back to my table with Piper, the both of us quiet.

I ate my fruit and yogurt, taking occasional sips of my tea. It all tasted like cardboard. Almost ritualistically, I looked to the Athena table for a glimpse of my ex. All I saw was Annabeth, and a couple other grey-eyed kids picking at their food nervously, or reading.

I sighed. Piper seemed to take notice.

"Everything all right?" She frowned, pushing aside her plate of pieta bread and hummus. "You look upset."

The ground became very interesting, all of a sudden. "I guess I'm alright. Just a little shaken up is all."

Piper took a sip of water from her cup. "I bet, I heard what happened with you and that Ares kid this morning."

I raised an eyebrow. "What did you hear?"

She put down her cup, and looked off at Rhea, and the other camp officials. "Apparently you had been walking to breakfast when some jerk was making rude comments about mom. He tried to fight you, but you really showed him up."

I blinked, not recognizing this story, then realized all at once that Rhea had again used her little trick. The mist had even managed to fool Piper, of all people. But why would she have done that?

"Penelope?"

I blinked again, snapping myself out of my thoughts. "Oh, right. Well, I mean, what would you do if some jerk was running his mouth?"

Piper gave me a small smile; one I had seen a lot in the mirror lately. "Probably the same thing you did. I can't stand those kids sometime…" She trailed off, and cast the rest of her food aside. "If you'll excuse me."

My half-sister stood up, and walked off, to her cabin I guess. In the off-season months, you could do that most of the time—Less people meant less rules.

I was alone again.

Before Piper could make it out of the dining area, another horn blew, demanding silence of the camper's. Conveniently, she was near the Zeus table, and helped herself to a seat next to Jason.

Dionysus stood up. He was dressed in a white leopard print, button-up shirt. His greasy black hair was slicked back, his forehead wrinkling as he lifted an unkempt eyebrow, staring at the paper he held in his hands. His eyes were sunken, and very tired looking.

"Alright, alright, settle down…" He frowned. "Brats…" Dionysus added under his breath. With a clear of his throat, he began again. "You all know what's going on. We've got some stray monsters, yadda yadda yadda, we need to keep them in check, and so forth. Normally, we'd send Percy and his little friends to clean it up—" He glanced to where Percy and his friend group all seemed to cumulate. "—But Chiron thinks they need a break. If so-facto, some other brats need to do it."

From the Ares table, heard a voice. The same abrasive, instigative voice I heard with Rhea. "So, it's a quest!"

Dionysus rolled his bloodshot eyes, clearly done with everyone within a 50-foot radius of him. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. If I call your name, make your way up here— _Quickly._ "

He droned on with the names, butchering most of the pronunciations. "…Raymond Greenfield.."

The same jerk who had tried to jump Rhea and I stood up, and strode over to the councilor's table, puffing his chest like he had just won the lottery. I mirrored Dionysus, and rolled my eyes.

He continued with the names. "Hmm.. Chloe.. Chloe Coito…"

From the Hermes table, full of children and teenagers alike, emerged a girl with brown hair, and tan skin. Her eyes were the color of honey, and glowed with the unmistakable mirth of a child of Hermes. She trudged up to the Councilor's table as well.

"Mm.. Nicholas Decius." Dionysus coughed, smacking the center of his chest.

Like the dead, the boy rose. His eyes seemed almost black, and brooding, giving Raymond a run for his money on the mean looking features. His hair was a light brown, and his skin was tan and toned. Freckles placed themselves randomly about the bridge of his nose. "Actually, its Nick." He frowned, looking almost as displeased as Dionysus. He was from the Nemesis table.

If Mr. D had heard him, he hadn't alluded to it. He continued on. "And—Wow, are you sure this is right?" He snorted, and looked to Chiron and Rhea. They both nodded. "Huh. Penelope Santibanez."

My heart stopped. My name?

Almost instinctively, I stood, and albeit numbly, I made my way up there and stood amongst the chosen kids. I didn't even look at them. My eyes were glued to the floor.

"Well, that's all then. You can all go once you're done eating." Mr. D concluded, and then, turned to us.

"You four will come with me."


End file.
